This is going to be one of the stranger things I’ve posted.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s thought about what they would do with a time machine. Maybe fix a mistake they made in the past, warn themselves about incoming danger, kill Hitler. Those are all perfectly normal fantasies.
Me, I want to kill myself. Maybe that’s normal here. There are probably a lot of people on here who would go back to a failed suicide attempt to do it right. But that’s not really what I want to do. I want to go back to a very specific time in my life. My teenage years. I always try to pretend that the person I was during my adolescence wasn’t me. Even if I know that’s not true. That’s why I always refer to that version as “her” rather than “me”. I don’t like being related to her. It makes me feel nauseous.
So lately, I’ve often pictured myself going back in time to end her life myself. I imagine myself sneaking into her room at night, while she’s sleeping. It would probably be really bizarre to see her. Like some kind of out of body experience. Looking into a mirror, except the reflection’s not quite right. Thinking about seeing her face makes me irrationally angry. Like how I get angry sometimes looking at my own reflection. Much like her, I also like to pretend that my reflection and I are two different people. I suppose it’s just another way I dodge responsibility.
I can’t decide if I want to smother her with a pillow or stab her with a knife. If I smother her, I could watch her struggle for one or two minutes, prolonging the whole ordeal for her. But then she wouldn’t see my face. I want to see the horror and confusion knowing the person who’s killing her is herself. Alternatively, if I stab her, she’d most likely jolt awake and see me (herself) crouched above her, twisting the knife in her gut. But then, given the chance, she would probably scream. I doubt she’d have the decency to die quietly. As much as I hate her, I don’t want my family’s past selves to see the act. She’s done enough to ruin their lives. Her dying will only fuck things up for them more. Plus, she won’t last very long if I mortally wound her. She deserves to suffer. I deserve to suffer.
Oh god, I think I’m going insane.
I have to be. No normal person thinks this way.
Why does thinking about killing my teenage self make me feel so good?
I’m really sorry everyone.
Please don’t hate me.
I just want to make everything right. I just want to fix what I did in the past.
If I had died, none of it would have happened.
People tell me to forget about it. That it wasn’t that bad what I did. But it was to me!
Part of me wants to die slowly. I deserve it.
The other part is a piece of shit coward too afraid of the pain to give myself exactly what I deserve.
I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Getting emotional about something that’s completely impossible never helped anyone. It doesn’t matter whether I go back in time to kill myself or I kill myself now. It’s all still me. It was always just me. And even if I do, killing myself won’t change what I caused in the past. But maybe it can prevent the damage I’ll cause in the future. My family doesn’t deserve to have me around. My friends don’t deserve to have me in their company. When I was a child, I was just an inconvenience. But when I grew up I only got worse. I’m going to end this. It’s what’s for the best. Even if my loved ones are hurt by my death, I’m sparing them from a much worse fate.
I’m sorry again for the rant-like post. I told myself I’d stop writing these. But I guess it’s better than keeping all this bottled up inside. Happy Quarentine. (If you can even call it that.)